Swallowed by Pain
by C. Adrien Cummings
Summary: Draco-centric oneshot. This fic is VERY different from everything else I've ever written. Be warned: dark themes and character death ensue, but I feel it's the best writing I've ever done. Full details in author's note inside. PLEASE review if you read!
1. Story

**Author's Note:** I wrote the original draft of this fic back in December of 2005. Since then, fewer than a dozen people have read it, but everyone who _has_ has urged me _ceaselessly_ to post it. I've hesitated thus far, because it's so vastly different from anything else I've ever written: gone are the sexy activities, fluffy tones, and happy endings of all my other works; here instead is a decidedly dark and depressing little fic, which I nonetheless consider to be the best piece of writing I've ever produced. My friends have _finally_ convinced me to post it despite my concerns, and I _do_ hope you enjoy the following tale. _**Please**_ review and let me know what you think; more than any of my other fics, I want to know _everyone's_ reaction to this. Thank you all _so_ much!

**Disclaimer:** The characters and settings used in this story belong to the illustrious J.K. Rowling. I may have taken slight liberties with their personalities and/or appearances, and I mean no harm whatsoever by doing so. No copyright infringement is intended and absolutely no money is being made by my writing this.

* * *

**Swallowed by Pain  
**(by C. Adrien Cummings)

* * *

A beautiful blond boy stood alone on the roof of the tallest tower of the castle, looking even paler than usual. This place was his escape from the world — had been throughout his entire school career thus far. This time, however, he intended it to be his _true_ escape . . . in the strictest sense of the word. In his hand he clutched a Muggle weapon: a handgun.

No one knew that he was here. That was how he wanted it, and so that was how it was . . . because a Malfoy _always_ gets what he wants. A bitter laugh escaped him as he thought this, because he _certainly_ hadn't gotten what he had wanted in the recent past. But then his laughter abruptly ceased, for upon further reflection he realized that it _did_ still hold true after all: he just wasn't really a Malfoy anymore. He'd changed . . .

Near the end of the school term in his sixth year (which seemed like an eternity ago . . . could it really have been only four months?), Draco had changed. He'd begun to make his _own_ decisions about his future, rather than letting his father dictate it. Of course, he'd had to follow his father's orders mechanically anyway, to avoid being killed. But he'd made up his mind.

Nobody knew but he, though his father _somehow_ had his suspicions. And when one's as cold-hearted as Lucius Malfoy, suspicion alone is more than enough reason to disown one's son. And so it came to be that Draco found himself more or less on his own as the dark forces grew in power, rather than dwindling as everyone had hoped, as the war between light and dark raged on.

While his being disowned and disinherited was still 'officially unofficial', the fact of it was clear enough to him from the, as yet little known, fact that Narcissa Malfoy was now pregnant again — Lucius had deemed it necessary to produce another heir to the Malfoy name and fortune. So while the rest of the world didn't know it yet, Draco, at least, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that once it was politically appropriate for Lucius to do so, the man would make it official, with all the paperwork and legalities that entailed.

But it wasn't just _that_ fact that led Draco to steal away to the roof of Hogwarts's tallest tower, gun in hand. If he could have had the _one_ thing that had made him make the changes and decisions he'd made, he would have been fine. But as always seemed to happen to him, he was denied that which he wanted more than anything in the world.

It had taken almost six full years, but Draco Malfoy had _finally_ fallen under the spell of Harry James Potter. He had finally seen for himself what it was in the Gryffindor that everyone else saw and that he had ignored for so long in favor of intense rivalry. Two weeks before the end of their sixth year, Harry had covered for Draco in a potentially _disastrous_ situation in school. Had he been caught, Draco _certainly_ would have been expelled, and most likely would have faced a legal inquiry from the Ministry. _Why_ Harry had covered for him was beyond his comprehension, but regardless of that, it had brought about the end of the most intense rivalry Hogwarts had seen since that of founders Gryffindor and Slytherin themselves — and the two boys may have equaled or even _surpassed_ that one. The only real difference between the two was that Gryffindor and Slytherin had started as friends and ended as rivals while Harry and Draco had switched the order. At least, they were in the _process_ of switching the order.

The rivalry had ceased immediately with Harry's inexplicable act of kindness and compassion, but there hadn't been enough time for a true friendship to develop before summer came and separated the two boys. They'd met up a few times at the beginning of their seventh year, in secret so as not to draw any negative — i.e., Death Eater — attention to Draco's less-than-supportive feelings toward Voldemort and the Dark Arts. Harry _alone_ knew how Draco felt and what he believed on that matter. Draco's father being who he was, no one else from the light side would trust him . . . and if anyone from the _dark_ side found out, he'd be dead within hours. So, they wisely kept it a secret.

And Draco was fine with that. For that month and a half at the start of seventh year, Harry's trust was all that mattered to him. And it always _would_ have been enough, had the unmentionable not happened. A week before Halloween in their seventh school term, as Draco and Harry drew ever closer to each other on the path to love, Hogwarts was attacked. The light side, despite all its spies and lookouts, never saw it coming. And in the attack, Harry James Potter, the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord — the _only_ one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord — was lost in battle. The world would soon belong to Voldemort.

How the world could come to this — how God could allow it — was beyond Draco's capacity to understand. All he knew was that he _had_ to fight to try to avenge Harry . . . but he wasn't allowed to. The light side knew nothing of his budding relationship with Harry, and as such, they didn't trust Draco enough to let him fight alongside them. They were certain he'd just stab them in the back, and while the world was doomed to fall to Voldemort anyway, Dumbledore was determined to take as many evil men out of it as he could before it did. To do so, he couldn't have any turncoats fighting for him, and so, Draco was shunned.

_That_, and of course Harry's death itself, was what led Draco to the roof on which he now stood. From here, he was able to see the destruction that had been wreaked on the school and its grounds. It was an absurdly fitting last image to grace the eyes of Draco Malfoy as he raised the gun to his head, intent on removing himself from this absolutely absurd world.

Time stood still for a moment — both on that roof and everywhere else on Hogwarts' ample grounds — and every creature froze, utterly puzzled as to what could have been the source of the resounding _**crack**_ that had just rung through the air. After a moment, however, life went on as usual . . . for all beings at Hogwarts, man and beast . . . save for one.

_**fin**_


	2. Lyrics

**Author's Note:** I apologize if my posting this in this way led you to believe that there was an actual second chapter to this tale, but I thought this separate "chapter" to be the best way for me to explain the inspiration that led to my writing such a different type of story than all my others.

Honestly, the story all but wrote itself. I was driving home from work one day when a song I'd never heard before came on the radio. As I listened to it that very first time, I saw Draco standing there on the roof of Hogwarts's tallest tower, looking out over the grounds as he lifted a handgun to his head. Throughout the course of the song, each scene played through my head, and I wrote each one _exactly_ as I saw it. I think the result was truly my best piece of writing ever, and what's truly amazing is that it was also the _easiest_ to write. Like I said, it practically wrote itself.

Ever since I first wrote it, I've tried time and again to expand this into a multi-chaptered tale, as I think the storyline lends itself to exactly that . . . but I've failed in every attempt and have come to realize that I've simply told as much of the story as I'm meant to tell. If anyone wants to accept a challenge, however, I would _love _to see this written in a long, well-thought-out, multi-chaptered format. Please PM or email me if you want to undertake such a task and consider yourself capable of seeing such a project through to its completion.

And now, I leave you with the lyrics of the song that inspired Swallowed by Pain. If you've never heard the song before, I _highly_ recommend listening to it . . . it's easily found on YouTube if you search the title and artist. Enjoy!

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**45  
**(by Shinedown)

Send away for a priceless gift  
One not subtle, one not on the list  
Send away for a perfect world  
One not simply so absurd  
In these times of doing what you're told  
Keep these feelings no one knows

What ever happened to the young man's heart  
Swallowed by pain as he slowly fell apart

And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45  
Swimming through the ashes of another life  
No real reason to accept the way things have changed  
Staring down the barrel of a .45

Send a message to the unborn child  
Keep your eyes open for a while  
In a box high up on a shelf  
Left for you, no one else  
There's a piece of a puzzle known as life  
Wrapped in guilt, sealed up tight

What ever happened to the young man's heart  
Swallowed by pain as he slowly fell apart

And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45  
Swimming through the ashes of another life  
No real reason to accept the way things have changed  
Staring down the barrel of a .45

Everyone's pointing their fingers  
Always condemning me  
Nobody knows what I believe  
I believe…

And I'm staring down the barrel of a .45  
Swimming through the ashes of another life  
No real reason to accept the way things have changed  
Staring down the barrel of a .45


End file.
